The best of rest is sleep, And that thou oft provok'st; yet grossly fear'st Thy death, which is no more.[78] To die is landing on some silent shore Where billows never break, nor tempests roar.[79] It is a strange thing to observe to what a height not only of moral excellence, but also of devotional fervour, men have arisen without any assistance from the doctrine of a future life. Only the faintest and most dubious glimmer of such a belief can be traced in the Psalms, in which countless generations of Christians have found the fullest expression of their devotional feelings, or in the Meditations of Marcus Aurelius, which are perhaps the purest product of pagan piety. As I have already said, I am endeavouring in this book to steer clear of questions of contested theologies; but it is impossible to avoid noticing the great changes that have been introduced into the conception of death by some of the teaching which in different forms has grown up under the name of Christianity, though much of it may be traced in germ to earlier periods of human development. Death in itself was made incomparably more terrible by the notion that it was not a law but a punishment; that sufferings inconceivably greater than those of Earth awaited the great masses of the human race beyond the grave; that an event which was believed to have taken place ages before we were born, or small frailties such as the best of us cannot escape, were sufficient to bring men under this condemnation; that the only paths to safety were to be found in ecclesiastical ceremonies; in the assistance of priests; in an accurate choice among competing theological doctrines. At the same time the largest and most powerful of the Churches of Christendom has, during many centuries, done its utmost to intensify the natural fear of death by associating it in the imaginations of men with loathsome images and appalling surroundings. There can be no greater contrast than that between the Greek tomb with its garlands of flowers, its bright, youthful and restful imagery, and the mortuary chapels that may often be found in Catholic countries, with their ghastly pictures of the _saved_ souls writhing in purgatorial flames, while the inscription above and the moneybox below point out the one means of alleviating their lot. Fermati, O Passagiero, mira tormenti. Siamo abbandonati dai nostri parenti. Di noi abbiate pietà, o voi amici cari.